Daemoniacus Demutatio
by starlight.moon.princess
Summary: 'The dead tell no tales - but they know more than any other.' :: Ruminations of a boy who died to please his father - even the purest hearts rot if it means gaining revenge.


The dead tell no tales – but they know more than any other.

* * *

For all that he had adored his father in life – for all that he had wanted nothing more than to make him proud, make himself worthwhile in the eyes of the man he all but worshipped – he had loved his mother too. His mother- his darling mother, the one who had made sure that he and Mina and Van remained sane during Father's long trips to Africa.

He should have known that there was more to those trips than just exploring – but he had always been the supremely naïve one to Van's worldliness. And now- now he would not even be able to be there for Mother when the person she loved more than any other in the world betrayed her once more.

Oh, he should have known better than to go with his father. Mother had _begged_ him not to go. Perhaps she knew. Perhaps she worried that she would loose her son in the same manner in which her husband was lost to her.

And he _was_ lost, though in another manner entirely. Lost forever on the shores of Lake Tanganyika – his father seemed due to continue stealing away all the pieces of his mother's life.

Just as bad was the fact that he was as forgotten in death as he had been in life. Father had not only abandoned him to die, alone and in pain, but had then proceeded to forget all about him as soon as he had been buried. Surveying rivers had always been more important to him than his sickly disappointment of a son, after all.

He had never been a vindictive child. Never – he had always loved his father, no matter how many times he had been rebuffed. Father had never managed to succeed in his duty to love his child, but he had never moved from his conviction to honour _his_ duty to love and obey his parents. But that had been his duty while he was earth. Now-

Well, at least he knew that there was some truth to Van's beliefs now. He had never understood her faith in a God that Father had told him and Mina didn't exist, but death cleared a lot of things. He still didn't know if her God existed – but her devil, her Satan, definitely did.

He didn't know what interest Van's Devil had in her, or why it was hovering around her so relentlessly. Perhaps it had even been the cause of poor Van's sickness, though to what end, he did not know.

It didn't matter.

Her Devil could not truly claw its way into gaining a hold on her without her invitation. An invitation it would never get – he did not know what had caused the darkness that was so clearly hovering around her to begin its slow envelope of her, or even when it had begun, but he knew his Van. He knew that she would hold on, never letting go of that last inch that would let the darkness worm its way into the depths of her soul. She would never provide the darkness with the invitation it needed.

He, on the other hand – he had known her ever since she was a newborn. Conscious or not, alive or dead, none of them mattered – her soul knew him as it knew few others. Perhaps only Mina could claim to be closer to Van.

He, unlike the darkness, needed no invitation. He, who knew her so well, would not be rebuffed.

Perhaps it was wrong of him to take such advantage of her, but he did not care. He, who had spent his life put down by his father and ignored by the world, would have his revenge.

He needed no convincing to join the shadows, to strengthen them enough that the girl he had once called Van would be easy prey.

* * *

_Peter loves you, Father._

If shadows could have smiled, it would have done so. It's once-father would find out just how much it loved him soon enough.

* * *

**A/N: My idea behind this one came from the way the demon/spirit/what-have-you that is possessing Vanessa seems to be exponentially more interested in causing Sir Malcolm pain than any of the other characters, and it is usually through the memory of Peter. Combined with what we have been shown of Peter, and the fact that the demon truly started exerting a significant force on Vanessa's life once it appeared to her in the form of Sir Malcolm - which in my timeline is sometime after Peter's death, though Sir Malcolm is still in Africa - this just refused to leave my mind.  
The basis for the demon needing Vanessa's permission to gain complete entry is the myth of the vampire, and that it needs permission before it can enter a home/building.**

**The title should mean 'Demonic Possession,' but seeing as it's been translated through the Internet, feel free to correct my Latin. **

**Anyways, this is my first Penny Dreadful fic. I hope you guys liked it, and please don't forget to drop a review letting my know how you felt about it :)**


End file.
